In Cold Blood
by Tiriya
Summary: What was going through Irvine's head as he prepared to pull the trigger on Edea? One-shot fic. Read and review!


The rifle is heavy in my hands.

I can feel myself start to tremble even before he passes it to me. I hope he doesn't notice. I pull my hat further down over my eyes and nod, silently. I don't trust myself to speak.

Even without looking, I can sense Rinoa and Squall exchange a glance; what it means, though, I can't tell. Maybe they know how I'm feeling? What we're up against? Well, Rinoa wouldn't, but Squall… I have to wonder. I find it strange. Doesn't he know who it is that we are about to assassinate?

I doubt it. There's something in his cold blue eyes that tells me he doesn't remember. Same for the rest of them. I mean, they would've said something if they did – you don't just take a thing like that in your stride, no matter how well-trained you are.

I retreat into the back of the carousel and sit down slowly. I need to think. I close my eyes; lean my head back so that my face is to the sky. Rinoa and Squall are talking quietly with one another. Their voices seem a million miles away. Thinking about what I'm being asked to do here, my vision blurs and I suddenly feel ill, shaky, sweating all over. I can't do this. I just _can't_.

There's a silence. The air is heavy, so heavy you can almost feel the tension like it was something physical. It hangs over our heads, as dark and ominous as a rain cloud on a hot summer's day. I can tell I'm not the only one who's nervous. The notion is comforting, but only a little.

Sounds from the parade are carrying over the still night air – people are screaming, cheering, whistling, worshiping their new leader. Music reverberates across the city. I block it all out. I can't take this. I shake my head slightly, lip curled in an ugly sneer. I'm disgusted with myself. I always do this – I always crumble under pressure. I heave a great sigh, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work, but then again, it never does.

Soon Squall comes over to me, says something. I look at him blankly, not really hearing him. He's watching me coolly, his features expressionless. What's he thinking?

"Don't tell me you're getting the jitters," he says after a moment, a sort of smirk now forming on his stupid face.

At that moment I despise him. I never did like the guy much, but seeing him just crouching there before me, expecting me to shoot her and then just walk away like nothing's happened, is just too much.

"I… I can't do it," I hear myself say.

He looks at me for a second, disbelief etched all over his face. I don't blame him. I know what he's thinking now: I'm the sniper. This is my job. I kill in cold blood, do it all the time. So why can't I just lift the gun and do away with the evil witch?

Because she's like my mother, that's why. No, she _is_ my mother, in every way that matters – I never had one to speak of before I came to the orphanage. She welcomed me into her home as a child and treated me like of one her own. She taught me to read and write. She taught me the difference between right and wrong. She taught me how love and trust again. And not just me, but him too. And the rest of them – Quistis, Selphie, Zell. They loved her too.

Squall's got his head in his hands. He's in despair. He's disappointed in me. Yeah, like I care. It doesn't matter what he thinks.

But he still manages to talk me round, somehow. I've always been easily swayed; it's one of my many faults. I start to see things from his point of view, see the hidden meaning behind his words as he coaxes me. Without knowing it, he helps me see the full picture. Ironic, since he can't even see it himself.

She's not herself anymore. She's not the kind matron I remember. My matron would never do the things that this woman had been doing, and will keep doing if she isn't stopped, and soon.

So no matter what, I have to do this. For myself, if not for the rest of the world. I can't stand seeing her like this – her eyes cold, vacant and uncompromising, her stance cool and detached. It's not her. I don't know exactly _who_ it is, but it's not her. She's doing terrible things – just look what happened to the president. She has to be stopped. Now.

I nod, just the once. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Squall mimic the gesture. He's satisfied, happy that I'm finally coming round. Stupid little soldier boy, blindly following orders. Doesn't he have any thoughts of his own?

I sigh. I'm not doing this for him; I'm not even doing this for Garden, or for myself. I'm doing it for Edea. For Matron. I'm freeing her from whatever it is that's making her do this.

I turn around slowly, holding the gun at an angle, barrel pointing towards the sky. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel my blood moving through my veins with a new force I've never felt before. I'm more aware of my own body now than I ever have been before in my life. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm frightened.

But there's no backing down now. I have to do this. No question About it. I've made up my mind. Trembling, I take aim, squint one eye so as to get a better view of my target, moving ever closer on the float, totally oblivious to the events that would unfold in a mere few seconds.

But I can't think about her. She is no longer a person to me, no longer someone I love. I have to just do it, now, before I lose my nerve. And so, repeating the mantra over and over again in my head – _It's for her own good, it's for her own good_ – I close my eyes briefly, take a deep breath, and pull the trigger.

~


End file.
